


Here We Go Again

by anoceanmonster



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Community: no_tags, Conventional Weapons, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoceanmonster/pseuds/anoceanmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 3 – Frank/Gerard, Set during the recording of Conventional Weapons. They both know that something's not right, and it's starting to wear on everyone.</p>
<p>
  <i>It’s another night of watching Gerard stare out in to the dark. Another night of secret cigarettes and open balcony doors, biting cold breezes and Gerard’s soft sighs of discontent. Frank can’t remember the last time he saw that flicker of excitement in Gerard’s eyes and felt the contagious buzz that surrounds him when he knows they’re on to something <i>amazing</i>. It’s been weeks, at least.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Go Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jjtaylor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjtaylor/gifts).



It’s another night of watching Gerard stare out in to the dark. Another night of secret cigarettes and open balcony doors, biting cold breezes and Gerard’s soft sighs of discontent. Frank can’t remember the last time he saw that flicker of excitement in Gerard’s eyes and felt the contagious buzz that surrounds him when he knows they’re on to something _amazing_. It’s been weeks, at least. 

He watches as Gerard ashes his cigarette from the balcony of the fifteenth floor of their hotel, take one last scolding drag and then flick it out in to the LA night. Briefly it burns like a street light before falling away, swallowed by the city. Gerard turns to Frank, hands hovering over his bare arms as he shivers in his tattered t-shirt. Frank shoves his hands deep in to his hoodie pockets and juts a head towards inside. 

“Wanna talk?” Gerard shakes his head but steps back in to the dark room, toeing off his shoes by the balcony doors before disappearing inside. Frank takes one last lungful of sharp air and follows. 

When they first started out Gerard would always seek Frank out at some god forsaken hour, in the back of the van or the floor of a motel room, curl up next to him and just talk. In the dark Frank would lay there and listen to Gerard’s thoughts, offering nothing more than an unseen head bob or a gentle squeeze of Gerard’s hip. He used to tell Frank _everything_ and even if it didn’t make any sense – that was irrelevant. 

Over the years, as they’ve grown close and apart and close again, wrapped their personalities around each other like tight ropes of ivy, words have become less and less important and tonight, is no different. Frank watches carefully from across the room as Gerard slides his jeans down pale, uneasy legs, kicks them in to the center of the floor and crawls on to the bed. When he’s seated on the pillows he looks up and reaches out for Frank. 

Kicking off his shoes and pulling off his hoodie, Frank crosses the thick carpet quickly, kneeling on the bed and sinking in to the plush bedding. Shirtless under his hoodie, his bare skin tightens against the cool air of the hotel room and he wonders which one of them turned on the AC even though there’s been a chill out all day. It doesn’t matter, though, because Gerard’s hands are sliding over his shoulders, palms flat as they run smoothly down his chest. When Gerard flicks the nail of his thumb over a nipple Frank gasps and surges forward, pinning Gerard to the bed with a hungry kiss. 

Everything else is shed quickly, well practiced by now at doing this in the dark, and Frank slips back between Gerard’s parted thighs. He presses two fingers inside of Gerard, not for preparation as much as it is just to feel Gerard start to give in to him. It doesn’t take long. Frank runs his fingers through the side of Gerard’s dark hair, its longer than he remembers; though he can’t remember the last time he did this. 

Gerard pushes upwards, hard and impatient and Frank has to bite back a laugh. Instead he kisses Gerard, open mouthed and wet, before wrapping his now warm fingers around his cock as he guides himself close and finally pushes inside.

The long, breathy gasp sounds a lot like Frank’s name and he turns his ear towards Gerard’s mouth to see if he can catch it again. He doesn’t. Instead Gerard’s teeth capture his earlobe and tug gently before whispering, “Just fuck me, Frankie,” and that’s all he needs to hear. He buries his face in to Gerard’s neck and does exactly as requested, fucking Gerard until they’re damp with sweat and every nerve ending is raw and over sensitive. 

Just as Gerard’s about to come, Frank’s hand wrapped firmly around his aching cock, he digs his fingertips in to the back of Frank’s skull and looks at him with hazy, tired eyes. “Thank you, for,” he stops to lick his lips and let out the almost silent moan caught in his throat, “for being my best friend.” 

Pressing his forehead to Gerard’s, Frank jacks him quickly until he comes, mouth hung open as he spills between them. Frank follows a few messy thrusts later, only able to hold himself up for so long before his elbows give out and he collapses on to Gerard. 

When they’ve wiped themselves down with a discarded t-shirt, Gerard rolls on to his side and stares quietly down at the mattress for a long time. 

“We have to tell them,” he finally says. 

Frank nods. “Yeah, we do.” 

Gerard sighs. “They won’t like it.” 

“Nope,” Frank whispers. 

“But we’ll tell them.”

Frank nods again and reaches out to curl his fingers beneath Gerard’s on the bed. “We’ll tell them.”

~~~

Ray twirls around on his chair, away from the soundboard and to the others in the room.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he says slowly, eyes narrowing at Gerard who is perched on the opposite desk. 

Bob rubs the back of his neck. “Start again, Gee? What the hell for?” 

“Uhm,” Rob, the producer, mumbles, scratching sleepily at his five o’clock shadow. Him and Ray, they haven’t slept much. They’ve been up all night chasing that certain sound with dials and faders, but never quite managing to capture it. “I’ll give you guys some privacy.” 

Gerard watches him as he leaves. “I just, I have this feeling. It doesn’t feel right.” 

Ray laughs. “You have a feeling? Gee, if we started over every time you ‘had a feeling’ we’d never get anything done.” 

Gerard sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. “I know, ok – I know. I get a lot of feelings and I talk a lot of shit, yeah – but, I mean it. This doesn’t feel right.” 

Bob gestures to the live sound room. “We’ve been working for months, _years_ on this stuff, man. These tracks are solid.” 

From the doorway, Frank folds his arms tightly across his chest and looks at his friends. “He’s not – I mean. _We’re_ not saying they’re bad songs. They just don’t feel like the direction we ought to be going in.” 

“It doesn’t feel wrong to me,” Ray remarks and Bob nods quickly in agreement. “Bob’s right, the tracks are solid. They’re great, they’re safe…they’re _us_.”

“But it shouldn’t be safe,” Gerard explains. “Not when we’re creating something new.” His friends don’t look convinced. He turns helplessly to his brother. “Mikey?”

From the tiny leather couch where he’s quietly been watching the exchange, Mikey stares at his brother with little readable emotion. Finally, he presses his lips in to a thin line and then says, “I can’t handle another Black Parade, Gee.” 

Gerard looks dejectedly at his brother before dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m not asking you to do that. I’d never ask you to do that.”

“But you’re asking him to throw away years of work because you have a _feeling_?” Ray cuts in, frustrated. 

“Gerard’s right,” Frank responds. “If you listen to those songs, if you really _listen_ to them then you’ll see, you’ll hear it. We can be so much more.”

With an aggravated moan Ray shakes his head. “Yeah, I bet Gerard’s real fucking good at convincing _you_.” 

Quickly Frank pushes himself away from the door frame, arms at his side and hands balled in to fists. “What the fuck did you-” 

“Whoa-” Bob cuts in, stepping between them and shoving Frank back towards the door. “Why don’t we all take a long lunch, huh? We could use a break.”

Frank leaves, growling something that sounds a lot like _fine_ or maybe a _fuck you_ before the door slams shut. 

Bob nods after him. “Gee, go make sure he doesn’t vandalise something.” What he probably means to say is _‘Gee, I think it’d be a really awesome idea if you left right now,’_ but, whatever. Gerard could use the air. 

 

Outside Frank’s already angrily sucked down half his cigarette. It seems to have done him some good, though, because when he sees Gerard he hands it over and says, “So that went well,” with a quirk of lips. 

Taking the cigarette, Gerard gives him a lop sided smile in reply. 

They stand in silence staring out at the quiet street, passing the cigarette back and forth until Frank flicks it to the sidewalk and grinds it out with the toe of his sneaker.

“So,” he starts, “lunch?” 

Gerard chews at the loose skin on his lip. “Yeah.”

“Sushi?”

“Sure.”

When they return after lunch, they find the studio empty. Gerard slips his hand in to Frank’s and squeezes. Frank sighs and squeezes back before pulling Gerard towards the door again.

~~~

When it reaches six am and sleep still doesn’t find them, they pull on their clothes and walk the five blocks to the studio. Gerard smokes with one hand and tucks the other in to Frank’s hoodie pocket, leaving a trail of wispy smoke rings as they walk.

What they don’t expect to find is Mikey and Ray at the sound desk, headphones on and frowning at the faders. Ray jumps when he spots them and quickly fumbles the headphones off and drags all the levels down. Mikey slips his own headphones off a little more gracefully and rolls his chair forward towards them.

The silence in the room is drawn out and awkward and Frank doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Ray says quietly after a moment. He looks between Frank and Gerard and then adds, “to both of you.” 

Frank stuffs his hands in to his pockets. “What are you guys doing here?” 

“Mikey made me come, we’ve been here for hours just listening and…” he looks away to the sound board and then back again. “You were right. We can do so much better than this.” 

“You knew?” Gerard says to his brother.

Mikey shrugs with one shoulder and wriggles his nose. “I’m your brother. I have this really annoying talent of knowing when you’re right.” Gerard smiles and slides an arm around Mikey’s shoulders. 

“I really am sorry,” Ray says again. “I guess I’ve just been trying so hard to be perfect, again, and it’s stopped me from really hearing these songs.” Then he looks up at Frank. “Frank, I’m-”

Frank shakes his head. “Don’t even say it, man. I know.” 

Gerard grins at them, and it’s the first honest smile Frank’s seen in weeks. 

“So, where do we go from here?” Mikey asks, leaning closer in to his brother’s half embrace. 

Gerard ruffles his hair. “Anywhere we want, kid.” Scoffing, Mikey bats his hand away. 

Ray sucks in a sharp breath. “Alright, then. Someone should call Bob, I guess.” 

Frank kicks at Ray’s chair until it rolls in to the desk. “I’ll do it later. First I wanna hear you tell me I was right again.” 

Ray laughs and reaches out to swipe at Frank, who only just darts away in time. “In your dreams, shorty.” 

As Frank leaps away from another attempt at capture, he trips on one of their ugly rugs and almost collides with the coffee table. 

Mikey shakes his head. “You guys are fucking dangerous.” 

Leaning back against the sound board, Gerard smiles so big it hurts. “We all are.”


End file.
